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Mein Kind Wir Waren Kinder

My child, we were just children,

Two happy kids, that’s all:

We crept into the henhouse,

And hid there in the straw.

We crowed like the cockerel,

And all the passers-by –Thought our: ‘Cock-a-doodle-doo!’Was the real cockerel’s cry.

We papered over the

We found around the yard,

And we lived there

In our elegant house of card.

The neighbour’s cat, the old one,

She often came for tea:

We paid her our respects, then,

I bowed and you curtseyed.

We asked how she was feeling,

Politely and with care:

Since then we’ve said the

To many an ancient fur.

We often sat there chatting,

Sensibly, as folks do,

Complaining how much

It was in our day too:

How love and faith and

Have vanished from the earth,

How dear the coffee is now,

How hard to garner wealth!….

They’re gone our games as children,

Everything goes, we see –Wealth and Earth and ages,

Faith, love and loyalty.

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Heinrich Heine

Heinrich Heine (13 December 1797 – 17 February 1856) was a German poet, writer and literary critic. He is best known outside Germany for his ear…

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